


I Think Perhaps You've Got the Wrong Place

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Demon and Angel Professors [111]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Multi, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25697779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: Adam stands in the middle of his decorated classroom and swivels on his heels to survey it, while his students all but hold their breath in anticipation.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley & Adam Young (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Warlock Dowling/Adam Young
Series: Demon and Angel Professors [111]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962
Comments: 35
Kudos: 880
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	I Think Perhaps You've Got the Wrong Place

Even having been warned by Crowley, Aziraphale still freezes for a moment in the doorway as he sees what the students have done to his room. The warning does allow him to keep his blandly pleasant mask in place though, and to refrain from slamming the door shut on the sight of a _banner_ draped across his _books._ Luckily, the students take his stillness as surprise rather than shock, and their hopeful puppy eyes pull him back to reality.

"Well," he says, and long experience keeps his voice unexpectedly steady. "This is certainly a change." He walks over to his desk and gently shuffles the cards and gifts off his actual workspace. "I shall have to share these with my dear Anthony." He glances up at Crowley hovering discreetly in the corridor as if he had been caught up in the crowd. "We're meeting in the greenhouse, later."

Crowley lifts an eyebrow, silently asking if he's ok, and Aziraphale is able to smile in response.

One of the students falters, "The greenhouse?"

Crowley gives the tiniest nod of acknowledgement and vanishes on silent, sauntering, feet.

"Why, of course," Aziraphale replies, the warmth of his smile hiding suppressed laughter now. "I promised Anthony a picnic some time ago, and as it's hardly the weather for sitting around outside," he glances pointedly at the rain-spattered window, "we compromised."

The students glance at each other in confusion, clearly wondering why he would brave Dr Crowley's lair when there are so many other options, but they say nothing as the lesson gets underway at last.

* * *

Adam stands in the middle of his classroom and swivels on his heels to survey it, while his students all but hold their breath in anticipation. "Well," he says, finally crossing to his desk, two painted nails (Father of Lies and Warlock's Partner) drumming a light tattoo on the wood. "You've certainly been hard at work here."

He smiles at them and the students relax with relief before he adds, "I think perhaps you've got the wrong room though. The birthday celebrations are happening in the greenhouse, not here, but no worries, I'll take them down there after the lesson..."

* * *

Two crowds of students trailed two different professors, each carrying a box of the students' offerings, towards the greenhouse. Adam got there first, but before he could knock, Dr Crowley opened the door. "Go on in, Adam," he said, "I'll be there shortly."

The students' eyes widened with horror as they realised they'd decorated for the wrong person.

Dr Fell bustled closer behind them with his own box, beamed at everyone, then adjusted his white umbrella to shield Dr Crowley from the rain. He half turned towards the student crowd, apparently to make the angle easier, and tilted his head. "After you, Anthony."

Every student face adopted the same expression.  _Oh, no._

Most of them seemed stuck that way. Kane, by contrast, looked as if something had just snapped into place when he didn't even realise it was niggling at him.

It wasn't the weather for hanging about though, and the students fled back inside to the break room and took their revelations with them.

* * *

Inside the greenhouse, there was a LGBT tartan blanket draped over the raised bed holding a miniature apple tree.

Adam put his box down beside it. "That's nice."

Crowley growled as he dropped onto the bench closest to the raised bed, "Do I look ' _nice_ ' to you?"

Adam shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged entirely too casually. "Oh I don't know. You look to me like the kind of person who would step up in support of a beleagured kid whose name you didn't even know, just because it was important that someone did. Even if it cost you..." He shrugged again. "But that's your business. Enjoy your picnic." And he was off out of the greenhouse in long, swinging, strides.

Aziraphale watched him go. "So, he knows."

"Apparently. I wonder," Crowley mused, "if he'd like an apple."


End file.
